


give me one good honest kiss (and i'll be alright)

by SilverOsiria



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: But with a happy ending, F/F, F/M, Lots of Angst, sort of a loose ocean's eleven/heist au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-09-24 12:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17100533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverOsiria/pseuds/SilverOsiria
Summary: Sara Lance is a thief fresh out of prison. With her life in shambles, she joins Rip Hunter and a team of criminals to pull off the greatest heist of the century. Their target? Darhk Hotel and Casino.Basically an Ocean's Eleven/Heist AU.





	1. Freedom

Sara Lance hated life at Blackgate Penitentiary.

Everything about it was awful, from the grimy white walls of her cell to the food that could barely pass as a meal to the barbed wire glistening on the fence surrounding the prison yard, taunting her with glimpses of the outside world every single day.

But what she hated most of all were the memories. Memories of the first few months in prison when she was just trying to survive the daily onslaught of beatings and bruises. Memories of the way people looked at her after she finally fought back, nearly killing two prisoners and a guard before she was beaten into submission and sent to solitary confinement. Memories of how alone she felt, living for visiting days when she could pretend like other people actually cared about how she was doing.

And memories of her.

Nyssa Al Ghul, the daughter of a powerful foreign businessman. She had found Sara with a broken body and a broken heart, helping her to build both back up. She taught Sara how to fight, how to love and how to live at a time when Sara struggled to do just that. But their love could not last, and when Nyssa’s father arranged for her release, she left with a long kiss and an even longer goodbye.

Blinking away the tears that threatened to fall, Sara began clenching and unclenching her fist, the calming motion drawing her mind away from her painful memories and grounding her. She couldn’t let her emotions get the best of her, especially not today. Not when she was being released back into the world. After three years in prison, returning to her old, normal life seemed daunting, but it was better than spending another day in this hellhole.

Sara had always imagined the day of her release, imagined leaving the prison to find Laurel and Quentin in the parking lot waiting for her. She’d run into their welcoming arms and they would be a family again, happy and content. But that was just a dream, a silly scenario that Sara had thought up in her spare time. It could never happen. Because Laurel died three months ago in a car crash and Quentin wasn’t Captain Lance of the SCPD anymore - just Quentin Lance, a hapless, childless old man. Because Sara was a thief and criminal, not an innocent little girl. Because she wasn’t the kind of person who got a happy ending.

The door to the cell block clanged open, bringing Sara out of her thoughts and back to reality. A guard approached her cell, unlocking her cell door as Sara stood up and smoothed down her white prison jumpsuit, impatiently tapping her fingers against her leg. The guard opened the door and ushered her out before handing the keys to another guard and taking Sara’s arm. The guard led her away from the cells towards Property, handing her off to yet another guard.

The guard at Property handed Sara a box with her civilian clothes in it before roughly shoving her into a small room. She changed quickly before exiting the room, where the guard handed her her personal effects: a thin silver ring, twenty dollars in cash and a silver necklace. 

Sara slipped the ring onto her finger, pocketed the cash and held the necklace up to the light. It was just as beautiful as it was the day Laurel had given it to her. The cold silver chain and the pendant of engraved metal: two small canaries - one black and one white - entwined around each other. Tears sprung to her eyes as memories of Laurel surged up unbidden. Her hand shaking, Sara slipped the necklace into her pocket.

Wiping away the tears from her eyes, she headed towards the small double doors, the only thing between her and freedom. She pushed them open and stepped out, stopping as the doors swung closed behind her. Throwing her head back, Sara closed her eyes and smiled, feeling the morning sun beaming down upon her and the wind against her face, ruffling her clothes and messing up her hair. Suddenly, a voice cut through her freedom-induced reverie.

“Hey, Sara, you just gonna stand there like an idiot, or are we gonna get going?”

Sara’s eyes snapped open and her head whipped forward as she searched for the source of the voice. She grinned a wide smile as her gaze settled on Zari, who was leaning against the chain link fence surrounding the parking lot. Sara stood frozen in place for a moment taking in Zari’s loud red checkered shirt and grumpy expression. Then she surged forward, wrapping her arms around Zari and burying her face in the crook of Zari’s neck. Zari hesitantly patted Sara’s head, unsure what to do.

“Alright, that’s enough of that touchy-feely shit,” she finally said, disentangling herself from Sara’s arms.

“Yeah, sorry,” Sara replied, wiping tears of joy from her eyes. “It’s just been really hard, especially these last few months. I really needed a hug from my best friend. You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you, Zari.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what friends are for. But like I said, we should get going. I don’t like prisons. Especially prisons in the mountains.”

“You don’t like prisons? Imagine how I feel,” Sara remarked as she followed Zari to a large, mocha-brown van with a horizontal black stripe down the side. Zari walked over to the passenger side with Sara, opening the door for her.

“In you go, captain,” she said with a mock bow and an exaggerated wave of her hand.

Sara rolled her eyes, stepping into the van. “Zari, I was the captain of the soccer team for two years in high school. That was almost ten years ago. I think that’s long enough for you to stop calling me ‘captain’.”

“As long as it continues to annoy you, I’ll keep calling you captain. And I’ve been your best friend since middle school, I know you well enough to tell that you secretly like it,” Zari said, circling around the van and getting in on the driver’s side. She put the keys in the ignition and drove out of the prison parking lot. Sara gazed out of the window of the van, watching the rest of the world zip past her as Zari drove on.

“So, three years in prison. You gonna tell me about it?” Zari asked, a grin creeping across her face as she glanced towards Sara, “C’mon, I need the deets. Anything fun happen while I was gone?” Sara saw Zari’s smile, and it hurt like hell. She knew Zari had no idea what she had been through in prison but it felt _so _wrong, seeing somebody smiling about something that had caused her so much anguish. Sara gripped the seat as anger rose up in her, taking the place of her pain. She whipped her head around to face Zari, her voice rising with every sharp, bitter word that forced itself out of her mouth.__

____

____

__“Well, I haven’t eaten a proper meal in three years and I’ve lost nearly forty pounds because of that. I also have nearly two dozen more scars, and those are just the physical ones. I’ve been punched, kicked, beaten and stabbed multiple times, not to mention the fact that I had my heart broken literally one month before I found out my sister died and I’d never see her again! Is that enough gossip for you? Or would you like me to tell you every single excruciating detail, Zari?”_ _

____

____

Zari’s mouth hung open, at a loss for words as she stared at Sara with wide eyes. In her shock, Zari had taken her foot off of the gas pedal and the van slowed to a halt in the middle of the street Finally regaining her senses, Zari pulled over to the side of the road before turning to face Sara.

“Wow,” she finally said, “I am _really _sorry, Sara. I didn’t mean to offend you, or bring up bad memories or anything. And I didn’t realize prison was anywhere close to that bad, or that it had such a huge impact on you. I’m so sorry.”__

____

____

Sara’s lip trembled and she suddenly burst into tears, reaching forward and hugging Zari tightly for the second time that day. After a minute, she sat up straight in her seat again, wiping her eyes as she let out a watery laugh.

“God, I’m pathetic,” Sara muttered as she leaned back into her seat, pressing her eyes closed.

“Hey,” Zari said, her voice filled with concern, “You’re not pathetic. You’re a regular adult who went through a lot of shit. And now you’re dealing with those feelings in a completely normal and healthy way.”

“Yeah, because it’s completely normal to snap at your best friend and then have a breakdown in her van on the side of the road,” Sara replied, unconvinced.

“It was my fault,” Zari said, “I shouldn’t have pushed you to tell me about what happened, that’s on me. And it’s completely normal to feel emotions, Sara.”

“How do you know? I thought you didn’t feel emotions,” Sara said, a hint of a smile creeping across her face.

“Shut up,” Zari said, turning back to the wheel. “And Sara, while I’m far for the best at dealing with my emotions, I’m a great listener. And you can talk to me, no matter what. Remember that.”

“I will. It’s just been really hard with everything that’s happened. And I was so alone in prison, I’d often just get lost in this whirlwind of guilt, regret and general self-hate. And I sort of let all of those pent up feelings out on you. I will probably take you up on that offer to talk, eventually. But right now I just need to get back into my life. And thanks for not running away, Z.”

“No problem. We all have our own shit to deal with. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Now, we should probably get going if we want to reach Star City by lunchtime.”

“Do you ever think about anything but food?” Sara asked as Zari began driving again.

“All the time,” Zari replied, smiling, “But I fight it.”

“Good to see some things haven’t changed one bit. Speaking of things changing, mind catching me up on what happened in the past three years?”

“Well, for starters, I now know that I’m not straight,” Zari said nonchalantly, not taking her eyes off the road.

“What?” Sara exclaimed, her eyes wide, “Tell me everything!” Zari let out a hearty laugh as Sara bombarded her with questions: “When did you realize you weren’t straight? Wait, why didn’t you tell me before? Do you know what your sexuality is? Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down, captain. First of all, this is a pretty recent thing. You know how I haven’t really been in relationships outside of the occasional fling, so I didn’t really think about it until Behrad came out two months ago.”

“Wait, Behrad’s gay too?” Sara interjected, “That’s awesome!”

“Yeah, he’s gay. He actually came out to me first over the phone. And the week after that at his birthday party, we were eating cake and he just randomly blurted out “I’m gay” to everybody there.”

“Well, he certainly knows how to make birthday parties interesting. I bet your parents loved that,” Sara replied, chuckling as she imagined the scene.

“Actually, they took it surprisingly well. Which sort of led to me questioning my sexuality. I’m still figuring out what it is but I know for sure that I’m not straight. I didn’t tell you because I haven’t had the chance to actually see you. The last time I visited was when you asked me to check up on Quentin for you after Laurel-” Zari froze as she realized that Laurel’s death could be a touchy subject. She glanced at Sara, trying to gauge her reaction. 

Sara sighed as she realized what Zari was thinking, turning to her. “While I appreciate you trying to look out for me, Zari, you don’t have to dance around me like I’m made of glass. And it happened three months ago, I can handle hearing about it without having another breakdown.”

“Yeah, alright. Anyway, that all happened at least a month before I started questioning everything. The next time we talked was when you called me to pick you up from prison, and I felt like this was something I had to tell you in person. So I told you now. And before you say anything, no, I don’t have a girlfriend nor do I see myself getting one in the near future. Apparently, I’m just as bad with girls as I was with guys.”

“Don’t worry about that, Z. You’ll find the right person eventually,” Sara reassured.

“Yeah. I hope so,” Zari said, “Being single sucks. Other major things you missed, by the way: Behrad’s high school graduation, Alison’s wedding, nine Marvel movies, like four more Sharknados, and me finally getting a well-paying job.”

“You have a job now? It’s about damn time,” Sara said, a wide smile plastered across her face.

“Yeah, I’m a freelance hacker, so people hire me do cybersecurity work and stuff. My first major job was in National City about a year ago, for LCorp. And guess who I ran into there?”

“Malcolm Merlyn? F. Scott Fitzgerald? Barack Obama? You’re going to have to be more specific, Zari.”

“Sam Arias. From high school. Remember her?”

“Yeah, we dated for a little while. She randomly dropped out in the middle of senior year and nobody ever heard from her again. We all assumed something bad had happened.”

“Yeah, well it turns out that she got pregnant and when her mom found out, she kicked Sam out of her house.”

“Yikes,” Sara said, grimacing, “That’s harsh.”

“Yeah. But now she’s the CFO of LCorp and she makes almost two-hundred thousand per year, so I’d say she bounced back pretty quickly. She’s also married to an FBI agent now. Alex Danvers.”

“Alex Danvers? I feel like I’ve heard that name before.”

“Her sister Kara is a reporter with Catco Worldwide Media. Alex worked with Quentin to take down Morgan Edge when he came to Star City, and Kara broke the story. The high-profile arrest and the publicity from the story were huge factors in Quentin’s promotion to captain.”

“An FBI agent, a reporter and a Fortune 500 CEO, huh. That’s one crazy family.”

“Yeah, but they’re awesome, especially Sam’s daughter Ruby. We’ve stayed in touch and they make it a point to have me over for dinner whenever I’m in National City for a job. Because apparently, doing work for LCorp looks really good on a resume and I’ve got a bunch of big companies vying for my services. Merlyn Global Group, Mercury Labs, even Queen Consolidated.”

“Ugh, you worked for Queen Consolidated?” Sara groaned, “That must have sucked.”

“Well, Oliver’s not the worst boss in the world,” Zari said, “Though I don’t think-”

“Wait, Oliver’s in charge of the company?” Sara asked, cutting Zari off. “Since when? What genius thought it was a good idea to give him a whole company?”

“Sara, he’s been the CEO of Queen Consolidated for two and a half years. Ever since his father died-”

“Wait, Robert Queen is dead?” Sara inquired, “When did that happen?”

Zari turned to look at Sara, a puzzled expression across her face.

“Robert Queen died nearly three years ago, Sara. Surely you heard about that, even in prison?”

“Look, Zari. After Laurel broke up with Oliver she, Tommy and I distanced ourselves from him. I’ve been avoiding any mention of the Queens since then. How did it happen?”

The landscape outside of the car began to change from trees and rocks to cars and buildings as Zari started to explain. 

“Around three years ago, Oliver and his dad were kidnapped by some people who held them for ransom for a week. When the police raided the building and saved them, Robert got shot and bled out. After he died, Oliver locked himself in his mansion for two whole months. When he finally came back into the world, he took over Queen Consolidated and turned it into a force for good. The work the company’s doing is helping a lot of people. I met him when he hired me for a job, and he’s actually a nice-ish guy now. Intimidating, but nice.”

“Yeah right. Oliver’s not the kind of person who changes. He’ll always be the same jerk who got me smashed on cheap liquor and slept with me at my nineteenth birthday party.”

“Okay,” Zari agreed, “That was a dick move. But believe me when I tell you, Oliver’s not the same person he was back then. Losing a loved one can change you, you know that firsthand. And the week he spent as a hostage certainly didn’t help.”

“How do you know all of this?” Sara inquired, intrigued.

“Oliver’s currently dating Felicity Smoak, a friend of mine from college. She used to work IT at Queen Consolidated, but she has her own startup now. We meet up for coffee sometimes.”

“Look at you, out here with all these connections,” Sara said teasingly.

A longing look crossed Zari’s face and she momentarily looked away from Sara before turning back, hoping Sara hadn’t seen her moment of weakness. But Sara had.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Z?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Nothing,” Zari muttered, “I’m fine Sara, really.”

“Bullshit. Come on Zari, I know something is bothering you. Just tell me what it is.”

Zari hesitated for a moment, but she eventually gave in, sighing.

“It’s just- You saying I have “connections”, it just reminded me that none of these people are actually proper friends with me. Sure, we meet up sometimes and have fun but then they go back to their stable jobs and their loving families while I go back to my apartment, completely alone. I don’t have anybody, Sara. I’m all alone.”

“Don’t say that,” Sara said, squeezing Zari’s arm reassuringly. “You’re not alone. You have me, you have your family and you have your friends. Because they are your friends, Zari, even if you don’t see them often. And they’ll be there for you if you ask, just like I will.”

Zari smiled wistfully. “Thanks, Sara. For- For everything. I mean it. You’ve only been back in my life for an hour and you’ve already made it a dozen times better.”

“No problem Zari. And you don’t have to worry about being alone in your apartment anymore, remember? I’m staying with you until I get enough money to buy a place of my own. We’re going to have so much fun, _roomie _!”__

____

____

“Dear god, why did I agree to that?” Zari groaned dramatically.

“Because you love me,” Sara said, “And my landlord sold my old apartment, so I don’t have anywhere else to live. Now, before we get to our apartment, let’s take a detour and grab lunch. I’ve been craving Big Belly Burger for three years, and I think it’s about time I satisfy those cravings. You down for that?”

“C’mon Sara, you know me. I’m always down for Big Belly Burger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was Chapter One of my first fic. I haven't written anything for other people before, so I decided to write a multi-chapter au instead of a few small one-shots like a normal person. Because why not? The writing isn't the best and there will probably be some tonal issues throughout the fic, but at least it's something to keep all you lovely people satiated during the hiatus.
> 
> I'll most certainly be writing this well into the next year, and it is definitely going to have extremely irregular updates. I'm also posting this twenty minutes before I leave on vacation, so I'm hoping to come back to some kind of reaction to this chapter.
> 
> This chapter was pretty self indulgent but it should get into the story by the next chapter, which I hope to have out soon. As for the name drops, Sam, Kara and Oliver aren't going to have a major part in this fic, if any part at all. Felicity and Alex might have a cameo, but I'm not sure about that. Title is from Nobody by Mitski because everybody else uses song lyrics as titles and I figured I should too.


	2. Drinks and Despair

Glancing around the small hallway, Sara decided she would rather be anywhere but there. She'd rather be back at lunch with Zari, stuffing her face and laughing at some stupid joke. She'd rather be back at Zari's apartment, moving her things from a closet to her new room or taking the best shower she had had in three years. She'd rather be anywhere but here, standing in front of a worn white door adorned with a single word: “Lance”. Behind that door was the father Sara had only seen through a glass pane for three whole years, and she had never been more scared in her life.

Drawing a deep, shaky breath, Sara raised her hand and knocked on the door, the sound echoing through the hallway. She braced herself, waiting for the door to swing open but it never did. Frowning, she raised her hand and knocked again, this time a little harder. Still no answer. Sara turned away, ready to leave when a familiar gruff voice called out from inside the apartment.

“Hold on, I’ll be there in just a minute!”

Hearing her father’s voice caused a surge of emotions to rise up within her, and Sara choked back a sob. She glanced back at the exit, wondering if it was too late to leave, to run away from her father and her feelings. But then the doorknob rattled and all thoughts of fleeing left Sara’s mind, replaced with dreading anticipation of the coming confrontation.

She quickly straightened herself up, adjusting her clothes and her hair and rubbing the beginnings of tears out of her eyes. She threw on a hesitant smile as the door swung open, but her expression quickly morphed into a look of confusion and shock at the sight before her. The man standing in the doorway was undoubtedly Quentin Lance, but Sara had never seen him like this before.

The first thing she noticed were the faded pink fuzzy slippers on his feet, followed by his plaid pajama pants and stained white shirt paired with an old grey suit coat. His hair was long and messy, and it didn’t seem like he had shaved in a while. He had large bags under his eyes and he smelled distinctly of alcohol.

Quentin’s eyes widened in surprise as they landed on Sara and he rubbed them like he was making sure he wasn’t seeing things.

“Sara!” he exclaimed, “You - you’re here! Wasn’t your release on Saturday? Wait, is it Saturday today? Who cares, just come here!”

Quentin surged forward, throwing his arms around Sara in a bone-crushing hug. She stumbled under his weight, getting a little woozy from the smell of cheap beer rolling off of him in waves.

“It’s great to see you too, dad. Really great,” she said, “Um, can I come in?”

“What? Oh, yeah, of course. Come on right in,” Quentin said, leading Sara into his apartment and shutting the door behind them. “Take a seat, uh, somewhere. If I had known you were coming I would’ve cleaned up, it’s kind of a mess in here. Oh, where are my manners? Do you want anything to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“Tea would be nice,” Sara replied, hesitantly sitting down on a grey couch. As Quentin nodded, moving to the kitchen, Sara looked around the apartment. It was dimly lit by a single lamp in the corner of the room and most of the furniture was a monochrome grey. The floor was littered with empty beer bottles and chinese food take-out boxes. A couple of them were still half-full, and Sara saw what she was sure was mold growing one of them.

“Hey, Sara?” Quentin called out as he walked back into the living room. “So it turns out that I don’t have tea, or coffee. I checked in the fridge and all I found were these.”

He held up a six-pack of beer, moving to sit down next to Sara.

“Not to be rude or anything,” Sara said, “But don’t you think you’ve had enough beer, dad? There are empty bottles all over the place and it smells pretty strongly of beer in here.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Most of the bottles aren’t even from this week. And I’ve probably already had one too many beers, another isn’t going to make a difference.”

“Alright…” Sara relented, taking a beer. “So, last time we talked, you told me you were moving out of our old house because it reminded you too much of Laurel. But you never mentioned that your new place was so crappy. No offence.”

“Hey!” Quentin said, slightly offended. “It’s not that bad.”

“Dad, there is literally a dead cockroach inside a box of half-eaten chinese food with mold on it on the floor right there. And I’m pretty sure I passed somebody throwing up in a plant pot in the lobby. How did you get here? I mean, we weren’t rich but we weren’t poor either. You had a well-paying job and enough money to get by.”

Quentin sighed, setting aside his beer and turning to look Sara directly in the eyes.

“Sara, there’s something I didn’t tell you. I got fired from my job.” 

“What!” Sara exclaimed, nearly dropping the bottle in her hand. “When? Why?”

“Two months ago. After Laurel died, I wasn’t in a good headspace. I was sleeping less, drinking more. And it was showing in my work. I was getting emotional and violent, so the commissioner kicked me off the force. At the moment, I still don’t have a job. My pay being cut off, plus all the money I spent on Laurel’s funeral kind of dried up most of our reserves. The bank foreclosed on the house, and this was the only place I could afford.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sara said, her voice breaking before becoming confrontational. “I could’ve- I don’t know, I could’ve done _something_. Even if I couldn’t, I still deserved to know. I’m your daughter, for god’s sakes! You shouldn’t have kept something that big from me!”

“Sara, baby, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you earlier but with you in prison and Laurel being gone, I thought that telling you would have done more harm than good.”

Sara wrung her hands in exasperation. “I get that it might not have been the best thing for me to hear, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have heard about it for two whole months! Do you really not trust me enough to handle something like this?”

“Of course I trust you, Sara!” Quentin said, moving closer. “I just-I don’t know. I made a bad decision, I can see that now. As you can probably tell, I haven’t been doing so well. But you didn’t come all this way just to talk about how garbage my life is. Can we talk about you? Please? It’s been three years, I just want to know how my baby girl is.”

Sara sighed. As much as she wanted to resolve her issues with Quentin, she knew it wouldn’t get anywhere. If there was one thing the Lance family was known for, it was avoiding their feelings. And drinking. But mostly avoiding their feelings.

“Alright dad,” she said, “What do you want to know?”

“Well, for starters: How was prison?"

Sara had expected the question and she was prepared to answer it this time. Still, a wave of emotion overcame her and threatened to collapse her calm facade but she powered through, choosing her words carefully as she answered her father’s question.

“If you want to know the truth, dad, a lot happened. A lot. I got hurt, both physically and emotionally. Those three years were probably the darkest time in my life. But I’m past that now, and I’d rather not relive it.”

“Okay then,” Quentin agreed. He was silent for moment, thinking about what to say.

“So… your old apartment was sold, right? Where are you staying? Hopefully somewhere better than here,” he said, chuckling half-heartedly.

“I haven’t found anywhere to stay yet, but Zari lent me an empty room at her place. I’m staying there until I get a proper job and enough money for a place of my own.”

“That’s good, that’s good. By the way, where are you in the whole job-hunting process?”

Sara groaned, leaning her head back against the couch. “Dad, I literally got out of prison this morning. It was hard to find work before, but now that I have a criminal record it’s going to be _way worse_. I think I’ve earned at least a few days rest before I delve back into the hellhole of job-hunting.”

“That’s fair, but have you decided what field you’re going to be looking into? Are you going to try for another job as a security guard?”

“Honestly, I doubt I’ll find many security guard jobs considering the fact that I robbed the last place I worked at.”

“That _would_ make things a bit harder,” Quentin said. “And about you robbing that place-"

“Dad, it’s fine. I’m not a thief or anything. That was one time, and I’ve realized my mistakes. Believe me, I’ve had three years to think about how badly I fucked everything up.”

“I know, Sara. You learn from your mistakes, you always have. That’s one of the things I love about you. I know that you’re going to do great, and Laurel did as well. There’s a reason she was trying so hard to get you out of prison. She wanted you to live your life as well as she knew you could.”

Sara sat straight up, her eyes wide in shock. “What? Laurel was trying to get me out of prison? But… why? _How_?”

“You mean you didn’t know? I assumed Laurel would have told you. About six months ago some guy showed up at her office raving about how the company you robbed had blood on its hands and there was somebody pulling the strings behind the scenes. But we looked into the company, had people comb through all of their files. There was no sign of anything close to a conspiracy at the level that guy was talking about. And Laurel never saw from him again anyway.”

“Oh. Well if it was just the ramblings of a conspiracy theorist, then why was it such a big deal?” Sara asked, curiosity pushing her to find answers.

Quentin sighed, a small, wistful smile crossing his face. “You know Laurel. She could never let something like this go. She spent dozens of sleepless nights talking to contacts, chasing down leads or visiting you in prison. She never took a moment to rest. I think that’s what got her in the end.”

Sara frowned, her curiosity turning to confusion. “What do you mean? I thought she was in a car crash? Are you saying she wasn’t?”

“No, she _was_ in a car crash, but you know how safe Laurel was. And the road she was on was well lit. There was no way she would have crashed if she wasn’t so tired and distracted. Unless she was drunk, but she’s been sober three years now and the lab techs couldn’t find any signs of alcohol in her system. Unlike mine right now. I am _loaded_. Sixth beer of the evening and it’s finally hitting me. Probably the only reason I’m telling you any of this anyway. _No_ filter whatsoever."

Sara’s eyes widened as she realized just how drunk Quentin was, kicking herself mentally for not realizing before. Then the rest of his words caught up to her and she gasped softly.

“Wait, so you’re saying- Laurel would still be alive if it wasn’t for her trying to get me out of prison? That it’s my fault she died?”

Tear began to fill her eyes as Quentin reached over to attempt to comfort her.

“Sara, there’s no way it was your fault. You didn’t even know she was trying to help you. Laurel chose her path, you couldn’t have done anything.”

“You’re right,” Sara said, her voice breaking. “She was trying to help _me_. _Me_! God, she was doing all of this for me and I was literally the worst sister and-”

A strangled sob escaped Sara’s throat as she buried her head in her hands. She spoke up again, her voice muffled but still full of anguish. “And even if it wasn’t her investigation, the way our last conversation ended, no wonder she was distracted enough to crash her car. Either way, it’s my fault. I-I got her killed! I got my own sister killed!”

Quentin tried to take her hand, but Sara pulled away. She wildly glanced around the room, but everything began to remind her of Laurel. The drapes embroidered with images of birds. The cushioned chair from their old house in the corner of the room. The dozens of bottles strewn across the floor. The genuine concern and care on Quentin’s face, a look Laurel had given her far too many times. The apartment was filled with ghosts of Laurel, and it was too much for Sara.

Brushing away Quentin’s hand a second time, Sara rose from the couch. Tears falling freely from her face, she dropped the empty bottle of beer in her hand and bolted out of Quentin’s apartment without a word of goodbye. She didn’t stop running until she was out of the apartment building.

Sara registered the setting sun and the crisp, cool air of the evening as she leaned back against the side of the building. The rough, cool bricks cut into her back as she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to quell the tears spilling forth from them.

“Deep breaths,” she told herself, struggling to control her breathing, “Everything’s fine. You’re fine. Just breathe.”

As Sara began to calm down, she took a step forward onto the sidewalk, wiping her slowly drying eyes with trembling hands.

“Okay then,” Sara muttered, trying to focus on something other than her pain. “I’m going to be fine. Just going to head back to Zari’s place, have Thai food and donuts for dinner and then cry myself to sleep. Nothing completely pathetic about that.”

Sara let out a dry laugh at her own cynicism before pausing. Sure, heading home straightaway would be a pathetic way to spend the night. But it was the right thing to do, the responsible thing.

Right?

_Laurel died because of you._

_She wouldn’t have crashed if she wasn’t distracted._

_It was your fault._

_You killed her._

Whispers of guilt crept back into the corners of Sara’s mind, and with it a wave of emotion that Sara couldn’t deal with. She just needed something to make it go away, all the anguish and all the guilt. Sara knew just the thing.

* * *

Sara slammed the glass onto the bar top, her hand trembling slightly.

“Another!” she called out, blinking tears out of her eyes as the loud sounds of the bar she was in accosted her ears from all directions.

The bartender stepped over to her, frowning. “You sure Sara? You’ve been here for a whole ten minutes and you’ve already had quite a bit to drink.”

“C’mon Victor, you already know I can handle my liquor. Now pour me another one.”

“Alright _hermana_ ,” the bartender said, “But don’t blame me tomorrow morning when you can’t stand up straight.”

As Victor poured Sara another drink, he struck up a conversation.

“So how has my favorite customer been these past few years, huh? I bet prison didn’t have any good liquor.”

“Yeah, even the best stuff you could get smuggled in _paled_ in comparison to anything that’s behind that counter,” Sara answered, grinning as she sipped her drink- slower this time. “So how’ve you been? How’s Jesper? You finally ask him out or are you still too chicken?”

Victor laughed a sharp, clear laugh that cut through the chaos of the bar. “Yeah, I asked him out. Our two year anniversary is next Friday, actually. Just between you and me, I’m thinking of proposing.”

“That’s amazing, Vic!” Sara exclaimed, but hearing about Victor’s extremely successful love life just reminded her of the gaping hole in her heart. She quickly downed the rest of the glass in her hand, putting it back down on the bar top and gesturing for Victor to refill it once more.

As he took the glass, another man walked up to the bar and sat down next to Sara. She looked over at him, taking in his sandy brown hair, mustache and beard as well as his brown trench coat.

Victor handed Sara her drink and turned to the man, asking him, “What can I get you, sir?”

“Double whiskey, neat,” came the reply, the man’s English accent sounding out of place here. As Victor poured his drink, he turned to Sara with an outstretched hand.

“The name’s Rip Hunter,” he said, dropping his hand when he realized that Sara wasn’t going to shake it.

Sara sighed. “No offense man, but I’m not interested. I’m just here to get drunk and regret my life decisions.”

Rip nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m sure you are, Ms. Lance.”

He smiled a little as Sara choked on her drink, spluttering for a moment.

“How do you know my name, creepy guy I’ve never seen before? And before you answer, know that I have a black belt in six different types of martial arts.”

“Everything all right here, _amigos_?” Victor asked, raising his eyebrow at Sara, a silent question on his lips: _Do you need me to kick this guy out?_ But before Sara could say anything, Rip spoke up.

“Everything’s fine. I know of Ms. Lance’s work for H.I.V.E. Pharmaceuticals and her subsequent incarceration. I’m here now with a business proposition.”

Victor looked towards Sara, and when she nodded he turned back to his other customers as she turned to Rip.

“Alright, Mr. Hunter. You say you know about my work. How much do you really know?”

“Well, I know that you worked as a security guard for H.I.V.E. Pharmaceuticals for two years until you came cross evidence of their massive fraud and illicit deals. You tried to blow the whistle on them, so they fired you. Instead of letting it go, you broke into their headquarters- bypassing their thought-to-be-unbeatable security system- and transferred billions of dollars to the people it rightfully belonged to. You also posted all the records of their illegal activities online. And for the crime of helping ameliorate the lives of thousands of people, you were sent to Blackgate for three years, a sentence which ended this morning.”

Sara rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink. “So you know about my prison sentence. Great job finding out about something that’s public knowledge. So where do you work and when can I get a job?”

Rip sighed, saying, “You seem to have misunderstood the type of job I want you to be a part of Ms. Lance. You see, I’m planning a heist on the Darhk Hotel and Casino, and I want you to join my team.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “No,” she said immediately.

“Hear me out. You’re a very skilled woman, one who was able to break into H.I.V.E. headquarters. That building had some of the most advanced security in the world, and you cracked it with no prior experience in the field. You’d be a great asset to my team.”

Sara gulped down the rest of her drink, giving Rip a hard glare. “Like I said, no. I’m not a criminal. I broke into H.I.V.E. and it ruined my life, I’m not doing that again. Not for all the money in the world.”

Rip looked like he wanted to argue, but after taking another look at Sara’s hard expression, he resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn’t get her to change her mind- at least not tonight.

“Well then, Miss Lance. If you don’t want in, you don’t want in. I just want to remind you that you’re sorely in need of work. Work which will be hard for you to find. But I’m offering you a job- one that includes a multi-million dollar payday.”

“I’m not doing it,” Sara insisted, but the decreasing intensity of her voice betrayed her hesitation.

Rip seemed to notice this and after a moment’s deliberation, he came to a decision. Taking a napkin from the bar, he pulled a pen out of his coat and scribbled something down before folding it up and sliding it across the bar top to Sara.

“On that napkin is my number,” he said, standing up and adjusting his coat. “Think it over in the morning, and if you change your mind, call me. I’ll be in Star City for the next forty-eight hours. I bid you goodnight, Ms. Lance, and I hope you reconsider my offer.”

With that, Rip turned around and walked away. Sara’s eyes fell to the napkin on the bar top, mere inches from her hand. She tried to simply forget about the offer, turning her attention back to her drink. But even then, her hand - seemingly of it’s own free will - crept forward and picked up the napkin, placing it into her pocket. As the cacophony of noises from the rest of the bar filled her head once more, Sara shook thoughts of the offer out of her head.

“Hey! Victor!” she called, “Pour me another, and make it a double. I’m going to need it.”

Sara drank the rest of the night away, the world fading into the background as the only thing that mattered became her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! This was mostly just a bit of worldbuilding, but plot things started happening with Rip and Sara. Next chapter, we're going to see the rest of the team and get more into the plot, so I'm super excited to write that. I also apologize for the long time in between me posting Chapter 1 and Chapter 2, I've just had a lot going on. But hopefully, there will be less of a wait for the next chapter, so keep an eye out for that.


	3. Recruitment

Sara’s eyes shot open and she sat up with a start. Almost immediately, pain shot through her head and black spots danced in front of her eyes. She fell back, lying still for a minute as the pain slowly faded. Slowly, Sara propped herself up on her elbows and looked around the room she was in. 

Panic filled her as she took in her unfamiliar surroundings, but then she remembered everything that had happened yesterday, from moving in with Zari to seeing Quentin to drinking away her sorrows. But the last she remembered, she was doing shots at the bar as Victor watched disapprovingly. Now she was back in the guest room of Zari’s apartment, laying in a warm bed surrounded by half-empty cardboard boxes. Sara tried to think but another headache shot through her and she lay back down, snuggling into the blankets.

Sunlight streamed dimly through the blinds over her window, beams dancing across her body as Sara lay in bed, enjoying the serenity and comfort she had missed for so long. Suddenly, the sound of the apartment door slamming shot through her ears and threw her out of her blissful stupor.

Sara slowly sat back up against the protests of her body and the dull pounding of her head. She swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood up before taking a step forward and immediately falling face first into one of the cardboard boxes on the floor.

Groaning, Sara carefully extricated herself from the box and got to her feet in time to see Zari leaning against the doorframe, a smirk playing across her lips.

“Morning sunshine,” Zari said, “Have a nice nap?”

“Shut up,” Sara grumbled, trudging out of her room as Zari followed. She stepped into the living room and immediately threw her hand up to shield her eyes as she was accosted by harsh sunlight streaming in through multiple open windows. 

Sara quickly walked over to the couch, dropping onto it with a loud groan. She grabbed a pair of sunglasses off the floor and put them on before wincing as another jolt of pain shot through her head.

She lay down across the couch, burying her face in one of the throw pillows. She let out a muffled moan as she turned to face Zari, who had taken a seat across from Sara and was watching her with an amused smile.

“Having fun?” Zari teased, leaning forward and resting her head on her hands.

Sara groaned in response, tossing a pillow at Zari. “God, I forgot how bad hangovers are. I literally can’t see without these sunglasses on. And my head hurts worse than that time Thea knocked me out.”

“Damn. You haven’t had a hangover in a while, huh?”

“Not even close. Back in prison I never had enough to drink at once to give me a hangover. But I may have gone slightly overboard yesterday.”

Zari let out a humorless laugh, saying, “ _Slightly_ overboard? Sara, you passed out. Vic had to call Jasper and get him to drive you back here. At least you told him you were living with me at some point during the night, so you got here safely. Otherwise you’d probably have woken up outside your old apartment or in a holding cell.”

“Yeah, waking up in another cell probably wouldn’t have been good for my emotional health,” Sara said, her voice falling as she recalled the absolute hell her emotions had been the day before.

“Um, speaking of your emotional health,” Zari began tentatively, unsure how she should approach the topic. “Was your binge-drinking yesterday more of an I’m-happy-and-I’m-going-to-celebrate kind of thing or an everything-in-my-life-is-garbage-and-I’m-going-to-drink-my-sorrows-away kind of thing?”

Sara sighed. “Unfortunately, it was the latter. Things with Quentin went way worse than expected and I just had a lot of emotions I couldn’t deal with. So I did what I always do when I have too many emotions - I repressed the hell out of them and drank way too much. Hence the agonizing hangover.”

“Oh. That sucks,” Zari said, “But what happened with Quentin? I thought you guys were all good.”

“Yeah, well it turns out that Laurel was trying to get me out of prison. According to him, Laurel apparently died because she wasn’t paying attention to the road, because of her investigation. Because of me.”

“Sara, Laurel’s death wasn’t remotely your fault. She-” Zari stopped talking abruptly as she registered everything Sara had said. “Hold on, are you saying you didn’t know Laurel was trying to get you out of prison?”

Sara groaned, closing her eyes and leaning her head back into the couch.

“You knew too? Did everybody know? Was I the only one who was in the dark? Why didn’t she tell me?”

“I have no idea why she didn’t tell you, but I can say for sure that the only people who knew about her investigation were your father, Tommy and me. And I probably knew more about it than either of them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m assuming you know about the supposed nutjob who showed up at Laurel’s office talking about a conspiracy?”

“Yeah. Quentin told me, and a detail like that sticks with you. Not that that whole conversation isn’t burned into my mind forever.”

“So the thing is, that guy may not have been a complete nutjob. He also had an encrypted thumb drive, that he gave to Laurel. But he disappeared before he could give Laurel the password, so she gave it to me. After all, I am the best hacker in Star City. But it also might have to do with the fact that she suspected that whatever was on the thumb drive might not have been legally acquired, and she knows I have a history with illegally acquired files after the H.I.V.E. break-in.”

Sara sat up straight, eyes wide as panic filled her voice. “Zari, she knows? How? When did she- Who else knows?”

“Relax, relax. It’s fine, Sara. Nobody knows. I never told anybody, and neither did Laurel.”

“But how did she find out?” Sara asked, panic still lining her voice.

“She was a smart woman, she put two and two together. The expert handling of the files you pulled off of H.I.V.E.’s servers, combined with the fact that you’re not the best with computers and the fact that I am - She realized that I helped you break into H.I.V.E.. But she kept it a secret, and the only people who know about it are the two of us.”

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Sara settled back into the couch.

“Okay, so what was on the thumb drive?” she asked, gazing intently at Zari and holding onto her every word.

“That’s the thing. Most of the files were heavily redacted, but I was able to find out something very interesting about H.I.V.E. - The company that owned it doesn’t exist. Neither does the company that owns them. There’s a whole mess of shell companies and fake people all leading back to a company owned by a man named Lucas Foncé. He doesn’t exist either, but his financial records were in the thumb drive. A shit ton of money, all funneled into a Swiss bank account. I looked into the account and it’s registered to a majorly corrupt American businessman. Laurel was investigating him, but she died a week before she was going to go public with any evidence.”

 Sara sat up straight, sunglasses falling off her face to reveal her wide eyes. Zari could see the gears turning in her head as Sara processed the information.

“Do you think there’s a connection between Laurel’s investigation and her death?” Sara asked Zari. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited to hear Zari’s answer, to hear verbal confirmation of the words she was too scared to voice.

“Yeah,” Zari replied. “I think Laurel was murdered to end her investigation.”

Sara was immediately assaulted by a dozen different emotions at once, nearly overwhelming her. Relief flooded through her as she realized that she wasn’t responsible for Laurel’s death, immediately replaced by guilt for taking comfort in the death of her own sister and horror at the fact that Laurel was murdered. Suddenly, Sara realized the one detail Zari had failed to mention.

“Zari, the businessman who you think had Laurel killed - What was his name?”

Zari sighed, looking Sara in the eyes. “That’s the problem. The Swiss bank account that all the money is being funneled into - It’s owned by none other than Damien Darhk.”

“That name sounds familiar,” Sara said, wracking her brain to try and remember where she had heard it before.

“It should,” Zari said, “He’s one of the most powerful businessmen in the Eastern United States. He owns multiple companies, a cruise ship, a charity organization and a hotel. He’s also suspected of having connections to the mob and arms, drug and human trafficking but he’s never gone to jail because any evidence against him up and disappears.”

“Just like Laurel and the man who gave her the thumb drive,” Sara said, putting the pieces together. “But that’s not just it, I’m sure I heard his name somewhere recently. In a newspaper maybe? Or maybe somebody mentioned it in prison, or Quentin said something, or-”

Sara froze, eyes widening as she remembered where she had heard Damien Darhk’s name. Immediately, the wheels began turning in her head as she began to plan, a sly smile forming on her face.

Zari looked towards Sara, brow furrowing when she saw Sara’s smile. “Sara? You okay? Most people don’t have a smile on their face after finding out their sister was killed by a powerful criminal businessman.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t a “my sister is dead” smile, this is an “I’m going to get revenge for my sister” smile. Because I am,” Sara promised, venom lacing her voice as anger rose up in her. “I’m going to go after Damien Darhk and I’m going to tear him down, piece by piece until he feels the same pain I felt for three months - the pain I still feel every day. I’m going to make him pay, Zari. I’m going to make him wish he’d never even heard the name Laurel Lance.”

Zari’s eyes widened as she subconsciously leaned away, disturbed by both Sara’s promise and the intense anger clearly bubbling up below her calm exterior. She had seen Sara this angry only once before, three years ago, when she had been fired by H.I.V.E.. She had made a promise then too, a promise that the heads of H.I.V.E. - the criminals who ruined the lives of thousands of people - would see justice served, and Zari had been all too happy to help. They had forced those criminals to face the law, but Sara had ended up with a three-year prison sentence in return. Now here she was, on the verge of repeating her last mistake and Zari was just sitting by silently.

“What is it?” Sara asked, noting Zari’s silence and the troubled expression on her face.

“Look, last time, you went after a pharmaceutical company and ended up in prison for three years. Now you want to do the exact same thing and go after _Damien Darhk_ , of all people. It’s too dangerous, Sara - He’s too dangerous. Even if you had my help, you would still fail.”

“Not if I have the right people working with me,” Sara said.

“Even if you could find a crew crazy enough to help you, what then? You’d still need a plan, and resources, and-”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that all covered,” Sara reassured, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a folded white napkin.

“With a napkin,” Zari deadpanned, raising an eyebrow as she stared at Sara.

“Be patient, Zari. So the thing is, while I was getting wasted last night some English guy in a trenchcoat approached me. He wanted me to join his crew to pull of a heist. Can you guess what his target was? The Darhk Hotel and Casino. I said no yesterday, but he gave me his number in case I changed my mind. And I have.”

“C’mon Sara, think this through.”

“I have. And I’ve decided that the best way to get to a corrupt businessman in through his money, which I’m going to steal from his hotel. It’s a foolproof plan, really. I don’t get what your problem is.”

“My _problem_ is that you can’t see what’s happening!” Zari burst out, almost falling out of her seat. “This is exactly what happened when you got fired from H.I.V.E.! You got angry and you came to me, and I helped you get thrown in prison for three years! I can’t do that again!”

“Then don’t help me,” Sara said, “It’s your choice. I’m doing this, with or without you. You can help me, or you can walk away. I won’t blame you for either choice.”

Zari met Sara’s gaze with a hard glare, but when Sara showed no signs of backing down, Zari averted her eyes. She tilted her head, lost in thought until she came to a decision - one she would probably regret.

“Alright,” Zari relented. “I’m with you. Let’s do this.”

“Great!” Sara exclaimed, taking her phone from where it lay face down on the coffee table. “It’s time to give Rip Hunter a call.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Miss Lance. And I’m glad to see that you’ve come to see things from my point of view,” Rip said, sitting on the couch in Zari’s apartment, perched on the edge of the seat across from Sara as Zari walked back into the living room balancing three steaming cups of tea in her hands. She handed one cup to Sara and one to Rip, who nodded in thanks. As she sat down, she turned towards Rip, fixing her gaze on him.

“So, you want to steal from Damien Darhk?” asked Zari, “How do you plan on doing that?”

“Yes, about that… I was hoping I could confer with Ms. Lance about the details of the heist in private. It’s better if nobody outside of my team knows the details of our plan. For security reasons.”

Zari smirked, saying, “That shouldn’t be a problem, since I’m joining your crew as well.”

Rip smiled uncomfortably, shifting his gaze. “Miss Tomaz, while I’m sure you can do great work with a computer, I already have several candidates to handle electronics, both hardware and software.”

Zari opened her mouth to retort, but Sara intervened. “Whoever you have, I guarantee you Zari’s better than any of them by far. Plus, we’re a package deal. If you want me, you take Zari as well. Otherwise you don’t get either of us.”

“I’m sure Miss Tomaz is perfectly capable, but I would prefer somebody with experience in matters such as this.”

“Well, lucky for you, I do have experience. Who do you think helped Sara get into H.I.V.E. HQ?”

“Zari…” Sara muttered, eyes flashing with a warning.

“It’s fine, Sara. If we’re working together, he’ll probably find out. And if not - Well, nobody will believe him anyway.”

Rip furrowed his brow in contemplation as Sara fidgeted nervously. She needed Zari on the team with her, to keep her head in the game and call her out when she did something stupid. Most of all, she needed Zari to be her friend, the one person she had who wasn’t a complete mess.

"Alright,” Rip announced, interrupting Sara’s thoughts. “Miss Tomaz is on the team. You already know that the target is the Darhk Hotel and Casino in Coast City. Full disclosure, I’m not a criminal. All I bring to the table is money and resources. I’ve never done anything like this before, but you have.”

“And you were picky about _me_ not having experience,” Zari scoffed, taking a sip of her tea.

“Yes, but my lack of experience is the reason I need a good team behind me. A team which, might I remind you, will be in sore need of my money and the resources I can provide. But there’s another thing I haven’t mentioned.”

“What now?” Sara muttered, leaning forward.

“I don’t actually have a team yet. I have a list of potential candidates, but you two are the first ones I’ve met who have said yes.”

Zari let out a humorless laugh, saying, “Wow, you are definitely much less prepared for this than you seem. You don’t have any experience _or_ an actual crew, and you actually think you can pull this off?”

“Everybody I _have_ approached about this job has said no, but I’m confident that the final candidates on my list will surely agree. I just have to ask them. I was hoping you would accompany me on my recruitment mission, Miss Lance.”

Sara, who had been mostly silent during the conversation looked towards Rip. “Why?”

“I want you on the team to take a leadership role in both the planning stage and the execution of that plan. Every good leader needs to know the people that they are leading,” Rip said simply, the hint of a smile on his face.

“Okay. So where do we go first?”

Rip placed his empty teacup on the coffee table, standing up and adjusting his coat. “Queen’s Park, of course. That’s where we’ll find our first recruit.”

* * *

 

Ray Palmer let out a long breath, watching it fog in the cold air as he leaned against a tree. He pulled his coat tighter around himself as he glanced around the large public park, scanning the large crowds of people while pretending to be on the phone. His eyes settled on a thin, young man in a suit that was a bit too large for him walking in the midst of a large group of people.

Ray stood up straight, brushing off his coat and running a hand through his hair before walking up the crowd of people around his target. He matched their pace, quickly integrating himself into the group as he slowly made his way forward to his target. As he approached the man, he flexed his hand, readying it. 

Suddenly, Ray pitched forward, stumbling over some nonexistent rock as he fell on top of his target, his hand slipping into the man’s coat for a quick moment before coming out. As he hit the ground, his target leaned down, a stream of apologies escaping his lips as he made to help Ray up. Ray grinned inwardly at his luck as he accepted the man’s outstretched hand, grasping his wrist tightly as he pulled himself up.

Nodding thanks to the man, he broke off from the group and took quick strides, heading out of the park. Glancing back, his eyes landed on a man and a woman walking purposefully about eight feet behind him, their gazes fixed on him. The man was tall and dark haired, dressed in a brown duster while the woman was short and blonde, dressed in jeans and a grey hoodie. Ray quickly stopped at an intersection, glancing up at a mirror mounted on a pole. The man and the woman had stopped as well, standing to the side of the path as they tried to look inconspicuous in the passing crowd.

Ray concentrated for a moment, cycling back through the images of all the faces he had seen today in his mind. He had a near perfect memory and a knack for remembering names and faces, a particularly useful skill in his line of work. His eyes widened as he remembered seeing the same two people walking behind him on the way to the park and sitting on a bench close to where he had robbed the mark.

“So I have a tail,” he muttered to himself, a slight smile crossing his face.

They weren’t cops, Ray knew that much for sure. The man was eyeing a passing security guard too warily, and the woman was subtly glancing around every few seconds as if expecting somebody to jump out of the bushes with a knife. Definitely not cops. Making up his mind, Ray quickly veered off the path he was on and headed out of the park. He looked around the street until his eyes settled on McRory’s bar.

_Open floor, multiple exits, a large enough crowd._

Glancing back for a moment to make sure the man and woman were still following, he stepped into McRory’s Bar and took a seat at a table in the center of the floor with easy access to the front and back entrances in case he needed a quick exit.

Moment’s later, the man and woman burst in through the door, eyes searching wildly until they landed on Ray sitting calmly, nursing an Irish whiskey.

Raising his glass, he cheerily exclaimed, “Hi! Who are you and why are you following me?”

As the man and the woman cautiously took the other seats at the table, the man asked, “You saw us?”

Ray chuckled to himself before replying, “Yeah, I mean, you weren’t exactly subtle. Now, I’ll ask again. Who are you?”

“My name is Rip Hunter,” he said, “And this is -”

“Sara,” the woman interjected, “I’m Sara.” She seemed more closed off than the man, but there was a fiery determination in her eyes that did not go unnoticed by Ray.

“Right,” said the man - Rip. “We’re here to offer you a job, Mr. Palmer. High risk, but a very high payday. In the millions, if all goes well.”

“The millions? Not that I’m not curious, but I’m a pretty small time guy. I pickpocket stockbrokers and con my way into charity events. Are you sure I can work a job this big?”

“Trust me,” Rip assured, “Your role in the job will not be trivial.”

“Alright, I’m interested,” Ray began, leaning in. “What’s the target?”

“The Darhk Hotel and Casino, in Coast City.”

Ray’s eyes widened and he let out a low whistle. “You want to go after Damien Darhk? Are you sure? The last guy who tried to steal from him ended up in prison for seven years. His house was seized by the bank and his family business completely bankrupted. Darhk doesn’t just ruin you, he ruins everybody and everything you care about, taking them apart piece by piece until you have nothing left. The corporate world is full of vultures, and he’s the most vicious one of them all.”

Ray noticed Sara’s jaw tightening as she steeled herself.

“Look, we know the risks and we’re going after him no matter what,” she said, “But Rip says you’re one of the best pickpockets in the business, and you’re not a half bad grifter. We could use someone like you.”

Ray emptied his glass before setting it on the table. “You’re going to need one hell of a crazy plan to pull this off and they’re no way I’m missing something like that. I’m in!”

* * *

 

“Damn it,” muttered Nate as the monkey wrench slipped from his grasp, hitting the ground with a loud clang. Laying on his back on a sliding board underneath a 2016 Chrysler 300, he didn’t have much room to move his arms around. He moved to grab the wrench but his forehead slammed into the undercarriage of the car and he yelped, inadvertently tugging the fuel line away from the car. Realizing his mistake a moment too late, Nate spluttered as a stream of gasoline hit him square in the middle of his face.

Spewing curses, Nate reattached the fuel line before rolling out from under the car. When he decided to open up an auto shop, he had expected mechanical parts and faulty engines, not cramped spaces and gasoline facials. A shadow engulfed him and he looked up to find Amaya standing over him, holding out a hand towel as she tried not to laugh at his misfortune. Grumbling, he began wiping his face as a loud ‘ding’ sounded from the front of the large garage. Clambering to his feet, he started forward but Amaya stopped him.

She sighed, saying, “Really Nathaniel? You’re going to meet your customers like _that_? You clothes are dirty, you’re covered in grease and you reek of gasoline.”

“I’m a mechanic, Amaya. This is an auto shop. If I was clean and pretty our customers would assume that I can’t do my job right.”

“Fine, but at least do something about the gasoline smell. In the meantime, I’ll go and introduce myself to our wonderful customers who are probably waiting for us, if they haven’t already left.”

As Nate headed to the washroom, Amaya made her way to the front desk at the front of the garage. A brown-haired man in a large brown trench coat and a pretty blonde woman with large circles under her eyes were standing there, waiting for her. As Amaya approached, the man stepped forward.

“Amaya Jiwe, I presume?” he inquired in a British accent. “My name is Rip Hunter and this is my associate, Sara.”

“Hi! Welcome to Heywood & Jiwe Auto Repairs! How can I help you two today?” Amaya exclaimed brightly, a friendly smile lighting up her face.

Sara stood up, stepping closer as the guarded expression on her face slightly faded. “Ms. Jiwe, it’s nice to meet you,” Sara said, “I’ll cut right to the chase. We’re here because we’re in need of your expertise. Yours and Nate Heywood’s, actually. Is he here?”

“Yeah, Nate’s in the back,” Amaya replied, internally sighing a little. She was used to customers wanting Nate to handle their repairs rather than her. She supposed she had signed up for this when she became a mechanic, but it was still disheartening to see people think she couldn’t do a better job than him.

“Good,” Sara continued, unaware of Amaya’s inner turmoil. “Rip and I are putting together a team and we want you two on it.”

“I-What? A team?” Amaya asked confusedly. Suddenly, realization dawned on her and her eyes widened. “You’re not customers, are you?”

“No, I’m afraid we’re not.”

Nate chose that moment to walk up to the front desk, droplets of water clinging to his eyebrows as he wiped his face with a towel.

“Hey guys, I’m Nate,” he said to Sara and Rip.

“So, Nate,” Amaya began, “These two wonderful people were just offering us a spot on their team. And I was just about to tell them that we’re retired.”

“Retired?” Rip exclaimed in surprise, “My information didn’t say anything about that.”

“Yeah, we’re retired,” Nate answered, “Why else d’you think we settled down and opened up an auto shop?”

“I honestly figured it was a cover. I mean, a mechanic and a demolitions expert working out of an auto shop wouldn’t raise suspicions.”

Amaya sighed. “We’re out of the game. For good. Nothing you can offer us will change that.”

“Not even a multi-million dollar payday?” Sara chimed in.

Nate let out a low whistle as Amaya turned to him with an annoyed expression on her face.

“That is a _lot_ of money,” he said.

“Nathaniel, you cannot seriously be considering this. We made a promise when we got out, remember? No going back.”

“Amaya, think about it. The blonde lady said multi-million. Face it, we could use the money. Despite what we want to believe, our shop’s not doing so well and we’ve got bills to pay. Among other things. This could be good for us.”

“Now would be a good time to mention that the job is extremely high risk, though your involvement in the dangerous parts would be quite limited,” Rip interjected, offering up a wry smile.

“It’s also worth mentioning that the target’s like a mega-criminal asshole,” Sara said, “So we’ve kinda got the moral high ground. Y’know, for criminals.”

“Who even is the target?” Amaya asked, turning towards Sara.

“Damien Darhk.”

Amaya let out a humorless chuckle, eyes widening as she realized the danger of the job she was being offered.

“You seriously want to steal from Damien Darhk?”

Sara frowned. “Why does everyone keep asking us that? Yeah, we’re going to steal from him. We’re going to rob him dry and he’s never going to know what hit him.”

“I _would_ love to see that,” Amaya said. “And you’re not wrong, Nate. As much as I hate to admit it, our finances are running a bit dry.”

“So you’re in?” Sara inquired, leaning forward.

Amaya glanced towards Nate, who nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah, we’re in. After a year of nothing but fixing cars and trucks, I could do with a little danger.”

* * *

 

Euphoria.

It was a feeling Wally was all too familiar with. He felt it every time he raced, and tonight was no different. Gripping the wheel of his modified Porsche 718 Cayman, the yellow and red car humming beneath his feet as the roar of the engine filled the air - It was all he could feel. Euphoria.

But as a loud honk brought him back to reality, he realized there was one more thing he had to do. Because if there was any moment he felt more unfiltered, unfettered joy than when he was racing, it was when he was winning. So no matter what, he was going to win this race.

A neon orange Tesla Model X swerved into his path, trying to cut him off. The driver flipped Wally off as the clementine car surged forward and took a right, but Wally simply smirked. He knew these streets better than most, and he knew that the road to the right was blocked off for construction about half a mile down. By the time the driver realized it, it would be far too late to turn back.

Taking a left, Wally sped up as he wove through the sparsely populated city streets. His ears pricked up as the sound of another racing engine filled the air. Glancing into his rear-view mirror, he spotted a navy blue Ford Mustang weaving through the crowd behind him, getting closer and closer with every second. In moments the Mustang had caught up with Wally, riding right beside his car so close he could see the other driver - a beefy, pug-nosed man with the edge of a tattoo peeking out from his neckline and his hair slicked back with an exorbitant amount of gel.

Sneering at Wally, the other driver slammed down on the gas and sped forward, turning onto the intersecting road with far more control than should be possible for a car traveling as fast as he was. Wally gritted his teeth and sped up, turning onto the same road with far less grace. His wheels lost traction for a second and he skidded into the turn, his heart pounding as he frantically turned the steering wheel, correcting the course of his car before he sped onward. 

Up until now, he hadn’t met any racer who could best him on these streets. But the driver of that blue Mustang not only matched him but overtook him, almost giving him a run for his money. And he couldn’t let that happen.

The course for the race had started in a parking garage at the center of Star City, and it ended just past the end of a bridge leaving the city. Wally set his jaw and gripped the wheel, speeding through city streets as a plan of action formed in his mind. He passed other racers, but paid them no mind. They were good, but there was only one car that actually posed a threat to him: the Mustang.

As Wally wove through the traffic on one of the busier streets, he heard the roar of a familiar engine and caught sight of the blue Mustang not far ahead of him. While the Mustang had a head start, Wally had taken a shortcut through an abandoned building and made up the difference. Now the cars were almost neck and neck again and Wally wasn't going to let his adversary escape once more.

The driver of the Mustang caught sight of Wally and his eyes widened in surprise as the car he thought he had left in the dust drove up beside him. He swerved and accelerated, switching lanes in an effort to shake Wally off his tail, but Wally didn’t let up. He matched the Mustang’s every move, not losing a foot of the distance between the two cars. Eventually, the cars turned off the main road and onto a smaller one leading up to a bridge: the final stretch of the race.

Both cars were still side by side as they approached the bridge, each vying for the lead but neither one making any headway. Wally glared at the driver of the Mustang but the man simply smiled back, an evil glint in his eye. Suddenly, the Mustang swerved towards Wally, slamming into the side of his car. Wally grabbed the wheel as his car skidded towards the guardrail, his heart pounding as he frantically tried to regain control before he went over the edge.

Sparks flew as the side of the car scraped against the railing, but Wally managed to pull the car back to the center of the lane. Breathing a quick sigh of relief, he accelerated in a bid to make up for the time he lost trying to right himself. Unfortunately, both cars had been neck and neck before Wally was waylaid, and now the Mustang was almost at the edge of the bridge with no way for Wally to catch up to it.

Well, _almost_ no way.

With one hand on the wheel, Wally grabbed the passenger’s seat with the other and lifted it up, revealing a metal canister labeled ‘Nitrous Oxide’. He desperately turned the valve, releasing the gas into a tube which led into the floor of the car and back up to the engine. Praying that the modifications he had made last week were enough to maintain the engine, Wally slammed his foot down on the accelerator. A small, breathy laugh escaped his lips as he felt the car speeding up, the distance between his car and the Mustang closing with every second.

Wally tensed as he approached the rear end of the Mustang once more, the bridge reaching its end as well. Wally could see the crowd of people waiting with bated breath on either side of the road at the finish line, about a hundred feet past the bridge. Both cars passed over the end of the bridge, neck and neck for a moment once more before Wally roared past the Mustang, overtaking it. 

Cheers and cries erupted from the crowd as he rocketed past the finish line, cutting the flow of nitrous to the engine and pulling into a skidding turn before coming to a stop in front of the crowd, facing the bridge. He could see the Mustang slowing down as it approached the finish line, its driver slamming his fists onto the wheel in anger. 

Wally leaned back in his seat, taking a long, deep breath as a dopey smile crept its way onto his face. He reveled in the euphoria of winning for a second before sitting back up straight. Opening the door, he stepped out of his car and shut it behind him, letting the cool night air flow over him. As the crowd began to dissipate, a couple members came over to him and took a selfie, exchanged a few words of encouragement or asked about his car. Finally, the last two came up to him, a man and a woman.

“Wally West, right? I’m Sara,” the woman said, holding out her hand for Wally to shake. “That was some really good driving back there.”

“Yeah, it was touch and go for a while but I managed to come out on top, thanks to a couple new modifications to my car,” Wally replied, shaking Sara’s hand.

“So, Wally, me and my friend Rip here have a business proposition for you. High risk, high reward kind of thing.”

“What, do you have a race you want me in? Something dangerous?” Wally asked, furrowing his brow.

“Not exactly. We’re putting together a team to break into a casino owned by a really, really bad guy and steal a bunch of his money, and we need a driver. You’re one of the best in the city who isn’t also an arrogant prick, so we’re approaching you.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Wally said, throwing up his hands and stepping back. “I’m a racer. An illegal street racer, so that technically makes me a criminal. But I’ve never been a part of something like this. I drive cars, I don’t break into casinos.”

“I understand that, Mr. West,” Rip interjected, “But we’re not asking you to do much more than drive. And while the risks are somewhat high, the estimated payout is in the millions. Your mother is in the hospital, and you’ve been racing to get money to help her. Our job should provide more than enough money to cover your mother’s medical bills and any other debts she has.”

“You’ve been doing your research on me,” Wally said, tilting his head in contemplation. “But you’re right, the payout is pretty tempting. I guess that means I’m in.”

“Awesome,” Sara grinned, “You won’t regret this. You know, unless we get caught and go to prison.”

“Thank you, Ms. Lance,” Rip said, glaring at her. “Now onto our final recruit.”

* * *

 

The morning sun shone through the second-story window of the mansion, lighting up the otherwise unlit hallway as Ava Sharpe crept through it clutching a black sports bag. She was dressed in all black, her long blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun so it wouldn’t get in the way.

Ava stepped soundlessly towards a large painting on the wall stretching from the floor to the ceiling, taking in the opulent wallpaper and furniture in the open rooms as she walked. Once she reached the painting she placed her bag on the floor and gripped the side of the painting’s frame, pulling.

The painting swung away from the wall on a set of hidden hinges, revealing a large black safe installed in the wall. Ava knelt down and opened her bag and began removing tools. Assembling a drill, she stood up and placed it against the metal wall of the safe. The whining of the drill cut through the otherwise silent hallway, metal shavings flying through the air as the drill cut into the wall of the safe.

But just as quickly as the drill had started, it stopped. The silence filling the air was just as conspicuously present as the noise, broken only as Ava knelt down and placed the drill back in her bag before pulling out an endoscope camera. She stood up once more and methodically fed the length of the camera into the hole made by the drill, stopping once it hit the end. She peered at the screen connected to the camera, taking in the image of the safe’s inner workings.

Ava took a long reach hook and fed it into the hole, watching her movements through the camera as she hooked a pair of wires and pulled them out through the hole, revealing two exposed ends. She reached into her bag and took a small black box with a switch on the front and two long cables, which she clipped to each of the exposed wires. Stepping back, she flipped the switch and the faint sizzling of electricity could be heard as a current traveled down the wires. A loud click sounded and Ava stepped forward, taking the handle of the safe door and turning it.

The door of the safe swung open, just as all of the lights suddenly flicked on in the hallway. Ava’s head swung towards a room at the end of the hallway, where a woman in a police uniform stepped out. The woman locked eyes with Ava, who stayed frozen in place. Finally, the policewoman glanced down at her watch and grinned.

“Damn, Sharpe. Three minutes and fourteen seconds. Henri couldn’t even crack it in ten minutes. Nice work,” she said, stepping forward as the hallway was suddenly flooded with uniformed officers.

Ava nodded her head curtly, replying, “No problem, Dinah. That’s why you come to me. I’m the best at what I do. It seems Mr. Falcone should have invested in a better safe before he got arrested.”

Ava knelt down next to her bag and packed up her tools before standing back up. As two officers came forward to inspect the contents of the safe, she turned to Dinah.

“I’ll send you the bill once I get back to the office. And for the record, Henri couldn’t find his way into a gym locker. Next time you need some help with a safe, talk to me first.”

“Well, Ava, I _would_ come to you first if you didn’t charge so damn much,” Dinah called out as Ava headed down a set of marble stairs to the first floor with a small smirk etched across her lips.

Heading out of the building, she began to make her way to her car but something in the corner of her eye caught her attention: a red Prius parked at the end of the street, with a man and a woman leaning against it. They were too far away for Ava to make out any details of their faces, but they were clearly watching her. Against her better judgement, she began to walk over to them. As she approached, the man stepped forward.

“Rip Hunter,” he said, sticking out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Sharpe.”

“What do you want?” Ava asked confrontationally, ignoring Rip’s outstretched hand.

“We need your safecracking skills,” the woman interrupted. She looked Ava up and down, a sly smirk playing across her face. “I’m Sara, by the way. Sara Lance.”

“Sara Lance,” Ava repeated slowly, trying to place where she had heard the name before. Suddenly it hit her. “Wait, you’re the one who pulled the H.I.V.E. job, right?”

“Yeah, that was me!” Sara exclaimed, her face lighting up in a bright smile.

Ava frowned. “That job was a mess. It was poorly executed, inefficient. And you left way too much evidence pointing to yourself,” she criticized.

Sara’s face fell and she recoiled slightly, her expression becoming guarded as she furrowed her brow and glared at Ava. Ava simply stared back, meeting her gaze. After all, she was just telling the truth. She felt a twinge of sympathy at the look on Sara’s face, but she quickly pushed it away.

“What, you could have done better?” Sara asked, haughtiness slipping into her tone.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Ava affirmed, tilting her chin up. “I could’ve been in and out with nobody ever realizing I was there.”

“Ladies, behave,” Rip interjected, positioning himself in between Ava and Sara. “We’re here on business, Ms. Sharpe. We’re constructing a team to help us break into Damien Darhk’s casino vault and make off with millions. There happens to be a very large safe inside said vault, and you’re the best safecracker in the city.”

Ava let out a nervous laugh. “You’ve come to the wrong person. I’m a professional safecracker. People hire me to break into their safes, including the police. I’m not a criminal.”

“Not now maybe, but you used to be one, didn’t you?” Rip asked.

Now it was Ava’s turn to recoil, squaring her jaw and stepping back. She placed her hands behind her back, steeling herself before replying.

“That’s not me anymore,” she said carefully, trying not to let Rip get under her skin. “I’m an honest citizen now. And even if I wasn’t, I’m no idiot. Damien Darhk is too big and too risky of a target, so find somebody else to join your little suicide squad.”

Sara stepped forward. “Let’s just go, Rip. It’s clear _Ms. Sharpe_ here has much better things to do than help us. We’ll just find the next person on our list,” she said, still glaring at Ava.

“She _is_ the list. We need you, Ava,” Rip pleaded. “And think of the benefits. Millions of dollars, and the satisfaction of ruining Damien Darhk.”

“Like she cares,” Sara scoffed, “She’s probably too busy riding her high horse to actually care about anybody but herself.”

Anger flared up in Ava and she tensed, barely managing to keep her cool. 

“Don’t for a second think you know me, Lance,” she growled threateningly, stepping closer until she was eye to eye with Sara. “My life is infinitely more complicated than you could ever imagine. And for the record, I do care.”

“Then help us,” Rip suggested meekly, trying not to draw the attention of Ava’s furious glare.

“You know what,” Ava said, still not backing down from her confrontation with Sara, “I think I will help you. But it’s a one time deal only. And I get the same share of the profits as everybody else.”

“Agreed,” Rip stated, “Now, erm if you and Ms. Lance could put aside your differences work things out, it would be helpful. After all, you two will be working together for the duration of this job and it would be better if you didn’t kill each other before the end of it.”

Realizing Sara wasn’t going to make any moves, Ava decided to be the bigger person. She took a step back before holding her hand out to shake as a peace offering. Sara stared at it for a moment before taking it, gripping much harder than necessary as she shook it.

“Wonderful!” Rip said, a pained smile on his face. “Now we should get going. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm really sorry about the long wait in between Chapters Two and Three. I had a bunch of projects and tests, plus AP Tests and a major case of writer's block but hopefully, that has passed. The next chapter should definitely be out quicker than this one, and I'm excited to write the team finally interacting with each other. So keep an eye out for the next chapter and don't be afraid to comment down below!


	4. Legends Assemble

Sara shouldered open the unlocked warehouse door, careful not to drop the contents of the large bags in each of her hands. Stepping inside, she let the door close by itself behind her as she looked up on the rows and rows of box-laden shelves. Remembering Rip’s instructions, she made her way through the rows of shelves to the middle of the warehouse, where a large space had been cleared. 

This space was elegantly furnished, a stark contrast to the rest of the warehouse with its carpeted floor, plush sofas around a mahogany coffee table, and a large flat screen television in front of the table. Behind the far couch stood a fully stocked minibar, which caught Sara’s eye from the moment she set foot in the space.

She diverted her attention to the three sofas, where the recruits - her team - were sitting, chatting amongst themselves. Amaya and Wally were sitting on one of the sofas, chatting casually as Nate and Ray engaged in an animated conversation on another sofa. Zari was conspicuously absent, but Sara remembered Rip saying something about having her fix the warehouse’s security system before she met the team. Then he had practically shoved Sara out of his car, saying he needed to pick something up.

The only outlier was Ava. She was sitting next to Amaya, but not bothering to interact with any of the others. She had her hands clasped in her lap, her posture rigidly straight and her face still as she was lost in contemplation. With the warm yellow lighting of the room shining off her blonde hair and the angles of her face, she reminded Sara of a statue of Athena she had seen on her field trip to the Star City Museum of Art, in high school. She had been enraptured by the beauty of the statue and the way the marble caught the light, making it seem like it was glowing. Sara quickly shook her head to dispel those thoughts, as well as the odd tightness in her chest that she was sure hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Sure, Ava was hot. There was no way of denying that, not if you had eyes. But Sara remembered the way Ava had looked down on her when they had met, picking apart her methods with an arrogance that, admittedly, would have been even hotter on anybody except stiff, abrasive, selfish Ava Sharpe.

“Sara, hey!” Ray called out as he noticed her standing off to the side and bringing her out of her thoughts.

As every pair of eyes turned towards her, Sara caught the quick look of disdain on Ava’s face before she schooled her features back into the calm, collected mask Sara had begun to despise. Ignoring Ava, she smiled warmly at the rest of the team and made her way to the center of the space, placing the bags in her hands on the table and opening them to reveal two large boxes.

“Donuts!” she announced cheerfully, gesturing towards the boxes.

As if on cue, Zari appeared in the entranceway, clutching her laptop in one hand and a broken security camera in the other with a cable connecting the two.

“Donuts?” she called, her eyes widening. She rushed over to the empty sofa, dumping her laptop and the security camera on it as she grabbed a jelly donut from the box and shoved the whole thing in her mouth. Only then she realized that the others were all staring at her, and she had yet to be introduced to them.

“Um, hi,” she mumbled through the donut, waving awkwardly.

“Hi! I’m Ray,” he said, reaching out his hand for Zari to shake.

“Nate Heywood.”

“Wally West.”

“Ava Sharpe.”

“Amaya Jiwe.”

Zari’s eyes widened as they landed on Amaya and a blush crept across her cheeks as she choked down the last of her donut.

“H-hi. I’m Tomaz. Zari. Zari Tomaz,” she said, stumbling over her words. She tucked her hair behind her ear, ducking her head down in an attempt to hide her face as her blush grew.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Zari,” Amaya replied, smiling at Zari’s flustered antics.

“Likewise,” Zari said simply, sitting down. Sara sat on the sofa next to her, a knowing smirk plastered across her face.

“Not one word, Lance,” Zari muttered through gritted teeth as she grabbed a second donut.

Sara opened her mouth to speak, but Rip chose that moment to appear from between the shelves, striding forward to the television and standing next to it before greeting the team.

“Welcome! Thank you all for coming, and for joining them team. I know this job is extremely dangerous, and I thank you all for risking yourselves to help. But first, I see Ms. Tomaz is already helping herself to the donuts, and I’d advise the rest of us do the same before there aren’t any left.”

Sara leaned forward, grabbing a donut as the others did the same. Ava was the last one, and she reached for the final donut before freezing as she saw it in all of its bright pink frosted, unicorn sprinkled glory. Sara watched her hand twitch as she debated with herself about whether or not to take the donut. Glancing around at the others and seeing Sara’s challenging smirk, she reluctantly grabbed the donut and took a large bite while maintaining eye contact with Sara the whole time.

“Looking sharp, Sharpie,” Sara teased, her voice filling with mirth as she gestured to Ava’s cheek, where some frosting and sprinkles had stuck to the side of her mouth. 

Ava’s eyes blazed with anger as she furiously wiped away the frosting with her hand before glaring at Sara. The others watched this exchange with veiled amusement or, in Nate’s case, a soft chuckle that died in his throat the moment Ava turned her death glare onto him.

“Okay,” Rip continued slowly, “Now that you’ve all gotten situated, let’s move on to business. Ms. Tomaz, you upgraded the security here to my specifications?”

“Yup,” Zari replied, popping the ‘p’. “I’ve got an isolated portable Wi-Fi network, and inner ear comms on a closed frequency. I also have unrestricted access to all the security cameras in a two-block radius. They’re all on a perpetual loop. I removed all the cameras inside the warehouse and replaced the ones outside it with our own. I’ve got perimeter alarms and motion sensors at all the exits. If anybody but us even comes near the warehouse, I’ll know.”

Rip nodded, smiling. “Good. Now, about Damien Darhk.”

At the mention of Damien Darhk’s name, Sara’s grin disappeared and she clenched her fist. Taking a deep breath, she schooled her features and looked back at Rip. He was looking at her with thinly veiled concern in his eyes but aside from him and Zari, nobody else had noticed her reaction.

She motioned for Rip to continue, and he turned back to the rest of the team, asking, “So, what do you lot already know about Damien Darhk?”

Wally raised his hand, catching Rip’s attention.

“Wasn’t he the guy who went viral a couple years ago for kicking a homeless guy who grabbed his sleeve?”

“I haven’t seen that video but that honestly sounds like him,” Sara said.

Rip nodded. “To answer your question, Mr. West, yes. He _was_ the one in that video. And for further reference, you don’t have to raise your hand. We’re professionals, we’re not in grade school.”

“Right, sorry,” Wally replied. “So who is he? What does he do?”

Rip answered, “Damien Darhk is, simply put, a businessman. His number one motivation is money. On the legal side of things, he owns the Darhk Hotel and Casino here in Coast City, our target. It’s one of his main sources of revenue, and it’s awfully convenient to launder dirty money through. He lives and works out of the building, and he runs the place with an iron fist.”

“And on the illegal side of things?” Ray asked, his head resting on his hands as he absorbed every word Rip said.

“Well, Damien Darhk survives on his influence. He has ties to organized crime, and is currently paying bribes to dozens of law enforcement officials. He owns a good number of companies, under aliases of course. The government has tried, but they can’t legally find any links between Darhk and the companies. They’re all quite different, ranging from pharmaceutical companies to weapons manufacturers. Most of these companies are involved in illegal activities from which the profits go to Damien Darhk. H.I.V.E. Pharmaceuticals, for example, was bribing FDA officials to allow them to release failed drugs as approved products. Many would have died, but the company would have more than enough money from the sales of the products to settle the court cases.”

Rip paused for a moment to wet his lips, looking around at the room. Ray, Nate and Ava were attentively listening to Rip speak, while Amaya and Zari had matching looks of horror and disgust on their faces. Wally and Sara seemed the least affected by the information, but Wally did have a slightly troubled look on his face.

Rip cleared his throat, continuing, “When Ms. Lance here exposed H.I.V.E., a serious dent was put in his financial stream. He filled the hole it left with, among other things, weapons dealing. While there is no official evidence of this, many believe Darhk supplies foreign groups with powerful, military grade weapons and technology. These groups include rebel factions in warring countries and foreign governments such as Saudi Arabia and Israel. He sells to both sides of conflicts, reaping the profits as bodies fall thousands of miles away.”

Zari gritted her teeth at this, clenching her fists. Sara placed a hand on Zari’s in an attempt to comfort her but she knew her efforts were futile. Zari’s father had been a civilian casualty during the Iran-Iraq war, when an American missile was fired by Iraqi forces into a crumbling city. Zari’s mother had fled to America shortly after, only then finding out she was pregnant. In all the time Sara had known her, Zari had always had an intense hatred for arms dealers and war profiteers because she blamed them for taking away the father she never got to know.

But Amaya happened to look over at Zari, noticing the tightness in Zari’s body and the pain written across her face. She sent Zari a warm, comforting look and Sara felt Zari’s tension slip away slowly as a deep breath escaped her lips.

“So we’ve established that the man’s a callous monster,” Zari spoke up, steadying her voice, “But we aren’t here to analyze his character. We’re here to break into his casino and steal his shit.”

“Agreed, Ms. Tomaz,” Rip declared, taking a small thumb drive from his coat pocket and plugging it into the television. He picked up the remote resting on top of the screen and pressed a button. The screen flickered to life with an image of the Darhk Hotel and Casino. Rip pressed another button and the image was replaced by a digital scan of a set of blueprints.

“These are the blueprints to the whole building,” Rip said, pointing. “The ground floor houses the main casino, a restaurant, coffee shop and the main lobby. It also is the only access to the section housing the security office and the elevator leading down to the vault. Above that is the second level of the casino, as well as a bar. The twelve hotel levels are above that, totaling nearly four-hundred rooms. Above that is an Art Museum, curated by Darhk’s daughter Eleanor.”

“Eleanor? Does she work with Darhk?” Ray asked, furrowing his brow.

“She does not. As far as I know, she is oblivious to her father’s criminal activities. When Darhk was being investigated for his mob ties, she was adamant about the charges being fraudulent and her father being an innocent man. However, she may just be a very good liar. But anyways, Darhk’s offices are above the museum. This is where he conducts business in the hotel, takes meetings and spends much of his time. The floor above is the penthouse, which is where he lives. But we don’t really care about anything above the Casino levels.”

“If the vault is underground, why don’t we just tunnel through the ground to it?” Nate questioned, furrowing his brow.

Rip opened his mouth to speak, but Zari beat him to it. 

“You see those sensors on the outside of the vault walls?” she asked, pointing to the blueprints as Rip zoomed in. “They would sense vibrations caused by the tunneling, and we’d get caught before we get close to the money.”

“Exactly, Ms. Tomaz. The walls of the vault are also constructed from concrete and reinforced with steel. The only way to get inside is through the door. Which will be a challenge, considering the security measures installed. And therein lies our first big problem.”

“Let me guess, we don’t know what security measures are in place?” Ava asked, furrowing her brow.

With a start, Sara realized that Ava had been silent the entire time, taking mental notes of everything Rip said without saying a word herself. In fact, she hadn’t looked anywhere but at him since he started talking, completely ignoring Sara and the others. But now a frustrated look crossed her face when Rip shook his head in affirmation, and she asked, “Why not?”

“Simply put, Ms. Sharpe, Damien Darhk is very good at keeping secrets. But here’s what I do know. On the casino floor, there is a door with a guard and a keycard lock. Through that door is the server room, the security office and the elevator down to the vault. The security office requires a separate keycard to enter, and I don’t know what security is on the elevator. Darhk bought and installed a new vault door from Vandemeer Security four months ago, and I happen to know somebody there who was able to get me a set of blueprints for a minimal bribe. From those, I can tell you that the vault door requires some sort of biometric scan, as well as voice confirmation of the person entering, speaking a specific password. That, I anticipate, will be the hardest measure to break.”

The others all nodded in agreement, but Zari had a thoughtful look on her face.

“Actually, I think I know how to get past that,” she said, and all eyes in the room turned upon her. Zari recoiled slightly at the sudden attention, saying, “This is just an idea, but we could use Gideon.”

“Who’s Gideon?” Sara asked, confused. She cycled through the names of all of Zari’s friends in her head, but she didn't know anyone by the name Gideon.

“Gideon’s not exactly a person, per se,” Zari replied, continuing when she saw the confusion on the others’ faces. “She’s a program I built to be a personal assistant, like Siri. I noticed that my uncle, who has a very thick accent, can’t use Siri because it doesn't understand what he says. So I decided to create a Siri-like program that asks you to say certain sentences, and from that it identifies each phoneme in the English language, as well as speech patterns, linguistic tics and more. Gideon can understand every accent, as long as the person is speaking English since I haven’t programmed any other languages yet. See?”

Zari pulled out her phone, unlocking it and pressing the home button twice. A small blue sphere popped up in the center of the screen as the background blurred.

“Welcome back, Zari,” a female voice said, the sphere glowing with each word, “How may I be of assistance today?”

“Woah, she sounds so human!” Ray exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Yeah, Gideon’s voice was created to perfectly replicate human speech patterns. Right now, her programming extends only to understanding somebody else’s words but with a few modifications and some footage of Damien Darhk speaking, Gideon should be able to imitate his voice perfectly.”

“Wow, that’s incredible, Zari,” Amaya praised, her voice barely hiding her amazement.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Zari blushed, melting under Amaya’s gaze.

“She’s right,” Rip interrupted, “This is very good, and it eliminates one of the main problems we have. Though there’s no doubt in my mind that the other, so far unknown security measures will also prove quite challenging. Finding out about them will be a challenge in itself.”

“Eh, that won’t be a problem for me,” Sara announced confidently, leaning back slightly in her chair.

Ava’s head whipped towards her, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“What, _you_ have a plan to somehow identify each and every security measure on the path to the vault?”

“Is that so surprising?” Sara asked, smirking.

“Well, the last time you executed one of your plans, you went to prison for three years,” Ava riposted.

Sara’s smirk died and anger blazed in her eyes, threatening to take over. She clenched her fists, gritting her teeth and forcing the anger to dissipate as she glared at Ava. 

But before Sara could say anything, Ava continued, “What even _is_ your brilliant plan, Lance?”

A spike of panic shot through Sara as she mentally scrambled to explain the plan she currently didn’t have, but suddenly she had a flash of genius.

“I mean, Damien probably doesn’t know who I am,” she began, gesturing animatedly with her hands as she talked. “It’s been more than a couple of years after all. So I’ll go in and introduce myself as a high-roller, and ask him to let me put my grandmother’s necklace in  the vault. I’ll be wearing a camera, so I can see everything he does to get into the vault, and we’ll have footage of the path to the vault as well.”

Ava scoffed, opening her mouth to retort but Rip interrupted, saying, “That’s actually not that far from what I had in mind.”

Sara lit up with a victorious grin as Ava whipped her head towards Rip, surprise evident on her face.

“What? But- That’s a terrible idea!” Ava exclaimed, “The cover story is transparent, Darhk would never let you accompany him to the vault, and he wouldn’t put a necklace in the vault in the first place.”

“Those are, admittedly, legitimate flaws in Sara’s plan,” Rip agreed, causing Sara’s face to fall a little as he continued, “However, my plan addresses each of these issues. And it involves Mr. Palmer, rather than Ms. Lance. However, the basic idea is the same.”

“Wait, me?” Ray asked, eyebrows raised in shock.

“Yes. You’ll be playing Sydney Palmer, an art historian from Columbia University.”

Ray’s expression morphed into one of shock, disgust and apprehension as he stared at Rip, trying to comprehend his words.

“My brother? You want me to pretend to be my twin brother?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes, I do. He’s a legitimate professor, and he looks exactly like you, allowing us to pass background checks with ease. His job also would involve him transporting precious art, the kind that Damien Darhk _would_ keep in his vault. And whether or not he takes you with him should be of no consequence since you’ll be attaching a small camera to his jacket when he isn’t looking, allowing us, as Sara mentioned before, to identify every security measure on the path to the vault.”

Ray’s eyebrows furrowed and he wrung his hands, saying, “Rip, my expertise is in pickpocketing. I think you’ve seriously overestimated my ability to pretend to be somebody else. I’m not exactly the best liar when confronted. Sure, I’m good enough at it when I’m some random rich guy at a party for just long enough to steal a wallet and leave without anybody even questioning who I am. But pretending to be somebody I know? In an environment where my identity will likely be put under intense scrutiny? I don’t know if I can do it, especially around someone as dangerous as Darhk.”

“Nobody else can do this,” Rip said, trying to sound assertive and reassuring at the same time. “We’re all needed for other parts of the plan, and you’re the only one of us who has any experience pretending to be somebody you aren’t.”

Sara scoffed internally at that, thinking back to the timid, perfect, straight-A student she was expected to be as a child and the strong, ruthless warrior she was forced to become in prison. Neither of them had been her, and yet she had played the parts to perfection; She had let them become her, for better or worse.

A small, humorless chuckle caught Sara’s attention and she glanced around, looking for the source. Her eyes widened in surprise as they landed on Ava, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as she watched Rip and Ray.

 _Who did she pretend to be,_ Sara wondered, _Less of a stuck-up bitch?_

But even as the thought crossed her mind, Sara knew it was nowhere near the truth. Ava’s expression was unusually raw and vulnerable, nothing like soulless robot she seemed to be. Looking closer, Sara could see a flicker of pain in Ava’s stormy blue eyes. Her lips curved downward with the faintest tremble, almost unnoticeable by Sara’s sharp eyes. 

And then suddenly, all the pain and sorrow was gone, replaced once more by the cold, stoic mask Sara was used to seeing so quickly that she wondered if she had imagined Ava’s damaged expression in the first place.

Ray’s defeated laugh filled the air, drawing Sara’s attention away from Ava and back to him.

“Alright,” he acquiesced, “I’ll do it. But if I’m going to be Sydney, we’re going to have to make sure the real Sydney Palmer is out of the way. Otherwise we’re going to have a pretty big mess on our hands.”

“That’s already taken care of,” Rip said, “Sydney was invited to join an archeological dig deep in the caves of Petra. He won’t be back in the United States for at least two months.”

“How did you manage that?” Ray asked, amazed.

Rip sighed, grinning as he said, “We all bring something to the team, Mr. Palmer. In my case, it’s my vast array of resources and contacts.”

“But mostly your vast bank account,” Ava said, her eyes widening as she realized the rudeness of what she said.

Everybody turned to look at her, and Sara waited for her to stumble through an apology, but Ava simply met Rip’s eyes and shrugged.

“You can’t say I’m wrong,” she defended brashly, and Rip let out a small chuckle.

“I suppose not,” he said, smiling as he shut off the television.

The others took that as an indication that the briefing was over, standing up to leave. Sara looked as Nate and Ray hugged goodbye and Zari, ever the stoic, simply nodded at Wally before giving Amaya a handshake that lasted a moment too long. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ava mutter a warm goodbye to Rip before taking her leave. 

As Sara watched her go, eyes bright and a faint smile across her face, she tried to reconcile Ava’s light-hearted merriment with the way Ava had looked just a few minutes ago, vulnerable and broken. She thought about the ease with which Ava had fallen back into her usual emotionless self, and the glimpse of cockiness she had seen when Ava remarked rudely on Rip’s wealth. Each version of her seemed just as real as the others, and yet none of them were the true Ava.

“Are you done ogling Ms. Sharpe?” Zari asked, pulling Sara’s gaze away from Ava’s retreating figure. “Because I think it’s time we get going.”

“I was not _ogling_ ,” Sara said, slapping Zari’s arm as they began to make their way to the exit.

“Yeah, and I’m Helen of Troy,” Zari said, grinning.

Sara cracked a smile at this, but try as she might, she could not stop thinking about Ava Sharpe. The woman was an enigma. A stubborn, annoying, infuriating enigma, and it vexed Sara to no end. She was determined to solve the puzzle of Ava Sharpe, even if it meant working alongside the acerbic blonde for the indefinite duration of the mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4! I managed to get this out much quicker than the last chapter, partly because I've been amazed by the reception my last chapter got, though I suppose that's what being on hiatus does to people. I hope to get the next chapter out as fast as this one, so keep an eye out for that and thank you all once more for showing this fic your love.


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